


The Game Master

by evilwriter37



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Forced Marriage, Attempted Forced Pregnancy, Attempted Seduction, Attempted assassination, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Episode: s04e12-13 Maces and Talons, F/M, Intrigue, Oral Sex, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, rape is in chapter 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Heather tries to seduce Viggo to try to get close enough to kill him, but somehow, he keeps avoiding all her attempts. As she spends more time with him, Heather begins to falter in her mission and wonders if Viggo is even worth killing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skywolf42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywolf42/gifts).



Knowing that Viggo was Ryker’s brother, Heather had imagined him being similar in every way, though maybe even bigger and uglier. That wasn’t the man she was met with. He was big still, but not in a brutish way like his older brother. His features were more delicate in comparison, though his jawline was nicely chiseled and his lips were plumper. Heather hadn’t expected the chief of the Dragon Hunters to be so… well, attractive. And then he opened his mouth to speak and his voice was smooth and confident, almost like he’d had this entire thing rehearsed.

“They say there are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true. The other is to refuse to believe what is.” He picked up a stone game piece and studied it, and it looked rather small in his large hand. He gave Heather a quick glance before looking to his audience as a whole, and she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy from it. “Maces and Talons,” he declared, stating the name of the game in front of him. He stood, still holding the piece, and approached them. His voice lowered when next he spoke. “I began playing with my grandfather when I was just a boy. I always insisted on being the honorable Viking chief.” He was gesturing, then studying the piece intently, as if no one else was around. “I could never understand how he bested me time and time again.” Then he looked back to Heather, Dagur, and Ryker, let out a low, soft laugh. Heather couldn’t help but exchange glances with Dagur, not sure what to think, and not sure what he was thinking. This eloquent and attracti- no, not attractive - man was leader of the Dragon Hunters? Dagur just looked unsettled, which was odd for him. It usually took a lot for him to be that way. It was probably the vibe of confidence and intelligence that he was giving off. There was more to this man than met the eye.

“For years I assumed his skill transcended mine.” Viggo’s dark brown eyes were back on the piece. “I believed what wasn’t true. But you see, in Maces and Talons, as in life, the line between good and evil is often unclear.” Had his eyes flicked to Heather for a moment, or had she just imagined that? It was so fast it was like it wasn’t real, like she had made it up. 

Viggo hit the lantern hanging from the rafter in the tent with the piece, causing it to swing back and forth and dash a mix of light and shadow across his face. “Black and white can become gray so easily.”

Now he was most  _ definitely  _ looking at her. Or was it all three of them? He was making it so difficult to tell, and anxiety kindled a fire into Heather’s stomach. Did he know somehow? Did he know she was working as a double agent?

_ No. How could he? _

She showed no outward sign of anxiety or suspicion. She had to keep up her act.

“What one soul considers evil, another might consider righteous.” Then Viggo was turning his back to them, taking a seat, doing something with the pieces that Heather couldn’t see. “The honorable chief who fails to see this is found to be…” There was a sound as if he’d knocked a piece over. “The fool.”

And suddenly Viggo’s act was over. He was standing up, spreading his arms as he approached Ryker.

“Welcome. Brother!”

Heather gave Dagur a side-eye glance. What had that entire thing been about? Why hadn’t Viggo just welcomed them off the bat instead of having a whole seemingly-planned monologue about some game and morals?

Viggo and Ryker hugged, but the embrace was quick, and then Viggo was taking Ryker’s chin in his hand, and something seemed off about the gesture, like there was supposed to be fondness in it but Viggo couldn’t bring himself to express it.

“You must be weary. The dragon trade is exhausting business.”

Their audience with Viggo was suddenly interrupted as one Hunter entered the tent, dragging another behind. Ryker moved aside, and then the man was being thrown down at Viggo’s feet. 

Viggo’s look down at him was merely disapproving, where Heather had expected anger. “Even more so when profits wane because inventory goes missing.” Viggo drew the bejeweled sword that he had sheathed on his back.

“Viggo, I only borrowed the hide to exchange for food!” the man pleaded desperately, getting up onto his knees. “It wasn’t gone for more then a day!”

In one swift and fluid movement, Viggo had the sword lowered, the blade hovering over the man’s face as if he were going to chop it in two, before going down to point at his throat. There was hardly a flicker of emotion in his eyes to warrant the threat - only cold, unfeeling thought. His lip curled for a moment in a sneer, but only briefly, and he was positioning the sword under the man’s arm to pull him up to his feet. Then the sword was at his heart, ready for a killing strike, and Viggo suddenly stepped forward, looking ready to do it. Heather was fine with witnessing this man’s death if it came to that, (he was a Dragon Hunter after all), but she still found herself unnerved by the whole spectacle. She’d gotten used to Dagur’s anger, where he’d tear his own men to shreds with raging shouts. Ryker would show his anger as well, but as she studied Viggo’s gaze, she saw nothing there. The human in his eyes had fled, leaving him as some highly intelligent, emotionless monster.

Then suddenly, Viggo stepped away and lowered his sword, and the human came back into his eyes. He nodded to the man that had brought this one in with a smile of all things. How could a smile on someone Heather had just seen almost kill somebody seem so charming?

The man was dragged away, giving thanks to Viggo for sparing his life, and once he was gone, Heather and Dagur both gave him questioning looks.

“We’re not animals,” he explained simply, sheathing his sword. He came forward, spread his arms, ushering them out of the tent. “Rest. Much to discuss tomorrow.”

Heather was eager to be leaving, to discuss her first impressions of Viggo with Dagur, but then she felt a large, commanding hand land on her shoulder. 

“She can stay,” Viggo said. Nerves boiled over in her stomach. Why did Viggo just want to talk to her? She looked to Dagur for help, but he just looked to Viggo and crumbled under his commanding gaze, though he did make a face at his displeasure before leaving.

Once they were alone, Viggo looked to Heather, his gaze softening. “Come. Walk with me.” His arm went around her shoulder, and it made her chest tighten for more reasons than one. She was well and truly terrified, but there was a part of her that she hated that found this man terribly attractive and was excited that she was so close to him.

They took a different path than Dagur and Ryker, steadily climbing upwards towards one of the outer areas of the camp. Viggo’s arm slipped off of her shoulder and he folded his hands behind his back. She copied the motion, trying to keep herself looking professional, but calm. Viggo didn’t say anything for a while, as if giving her time to think things over. Heather was hoping he didn’t expect her to start a conversation. She didn’t know what to say first.

“My brother’s treated you well, I trust?” Viggo asked, finally breaking the silence.

Heather nodded, met his gaze that was somehow now endearing. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him how there had been times where Ryker had been handsy with her, where he’d groped her breasts or her ass or slammed her against a wall. She’d always managed to draw a weapon on him to defend herself, but he would back off as soon as she did so, laughing loudly. He got a kick out of riling her up like that, making her feel angry and unsafe. He’d never gone farther than that, though she feared someday he actually would.

Her mind was quickly on other things though, on the scene she’d witnessed in the tent. “You forgave that man,” she said, astonished. She hadn’t expected that of Viggo, had expected nothing but cruelty of him. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Forgiveness,” Viggo said, pausing in his stride and turning to look at her. He tilted his head down so that she didn’t have to raise her own to meet his eyes. They didn’t look brown in the darkness, but instead completely black. “Not really a sound business practice, now, is it?”

As if on cue, a man’s screams arose from a distance, sounding agonized and terrified. Then suddenly they were cut short. He was certainly dead, and Heather didn’t know how she felt about that. Viggo had pretended he’d spared that Hunter’s life, had given him false hope and security, and had then ended it in some horrible way anyway.

“Trust, however-” his arm went back around her shoulders, and their walk continued- “is imperative, Heather.”

Then her toes were reaching the edge of the rocky ground, and Heather stopped herself, backed up a little, heart leaping into her throat. She’d been so engrossed in Viggo’s gaze that she hadn’t even noticed him leading her right to a cliff. Panic burst inside of her as she looked down. 

_ Oh Thor, he knows! _

“And there simply cannot be a traitor among us.”

_ Shit.  _ That was an understatement. Here Viggo Grimborn had her over a cliff, she had no space to fight him, and he somehow knew she was a traitor. She was going to die just because she’d been so focused on a man’s charm, and she felt incredibly scared and stupid all at once.

Viggo didn’t push her though, just continued speaking. “A man will never know how far he’s willing to go until he steps to the edge and looks down.” He pushed her forward now, right up to the very edge of the cliff, and Heather could feel his eyes on her, studying her expressions. She couldn’t school her face into not showing her shock though.

_ When he pushes me, I’ll just grab onto him and take him with me.  _ She’d die, but at least Viggo would as well. If that was going to be Heather’s only chance, then she’d take it.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

Why wasn’t he pushing her yet? Was this a test of some sort?

“Ah, I suppose, metaphorically,” she answered, her voice rife with unease. Her stomach was doing flips.

Viggo didn’t have to push her. The cliff dropped out from under her, and she cried out as she began to fall, but it was hardly very far before Viggo was wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her backwards. Once she had solid footing, he took her by the arm and pulled her away from the danger of the cliff. He’d… saved her? Why hadn’t he just let her fall?

“I’ve always hated the use of metaphors,” Viggo responded as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, as if she hadn’t had a run-in with death.

When Heather looked to him he was just calmly brushing himself off. Her chest was heaving. Now she couldn’t tell if he actually knew or not. What was going  _ on? _ Why was he doing all of this?

Viggo straightened, folding his hands behind his back. “Now, down to business.”

Heather tried to even her breathing and her heart rate, to not look at him in a questioning manner, though she was all sorts of confused.

“I need your assistance, my dear.”

“You do?”

“Yes. In exposing this wrongdoer who is in our midst.”

Relief swelled inside of Heather so fast she was almost afraid she was going to faint. So Viggo  _ didn’t  _ know.

“Oh, of course,” she complied easily. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you have any ideas of who it is?” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Viggo answered, and by now Heather had been able to perfectly slip her mask back on. She took on an eager expression. “Ryker has always been a bit jealous of the power structure amongst the Dragon Hunters, and his role in that hierarchy. That type of ambition can often cloud the mind.”

“So, you think it’s Ryker?” she asked carefully.

“I’m not entirely certain,” Viggo said, spreading his hands a little. “See, your brother claims to know these Dragon Riders well, yet they always seem a step ahead of us.” He clenched a fist in a show of frustration. “I would never suggest turning on one’s own family...”

“But if Dagur is standing in the way of your- of  _ our _ \- success, that is  _ not _ to be tolerated.” Heather hoped she had covered her slip-up in time.

Viggo looked awfully pleased. “Couldn’t have put it better myself. Nor is it tolerable if this wrongdoer is my own flesh and blood.” Viggo paused to smile at her, clearly glad that they were supposedly on the same page. Heather felt much more at ease now. She could frame Ryker as the traitor and Viggo would never have to know that it had been her.

Viggo took her by the shoulder again, and this time she felt more comfortable, though they were standing much closer than they had been before, bodies almost touching.

“I’m so pleased that we are able to see eye to eye on this, Heather,” Viggo went on. “I was going to ask if I could trust you, but you’ve made that question unnecessary.” His words almost made Heather breathe a sigh of relief. “Will you see what you can uncover?”

Heather gave him a small, conspiratorial smile, nodded. 

“Excellent.” He turned, took her by both of her shoulders. “In the meantime, I’d like you to join me in a most delicate retrieval. But, we must keep it to ourselves. Tell me-” his hands fell away from her, but she almost wanted him to put them back- “have you ever encountered a Flightmare?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Heather answered confidently. “And, I can even tell you where to find one.”

Viggo smiled, clearly pleased with that answer. “Are you too tired tonight to show me, or may I invite you back to my tent?” He held his arm out to her.

Heather realized that Viggo was using his charm on her now, not to uncover information, but to get something else from her. She figured she could go along with that, use his attraction to her to her advantage. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d batted her eyelashes to reach her goal. And if this turned into something more along the way, then so be it. There was no way to deny her attraction to Viggo.

She gave him a smile, took his arm. “I think I’ll accept that invitation.”

“Wonderful.” They began walking back the way they had come. “As long as your brother won’t mind me taking up more of your time.”

“Dagur doesn’t control what I do,” Heather told him firmly. 

“Oh, I doubt anyone can control you. You make your own path for yourself, and I admire that.”

Was that… heat Heather felt in her face? Was she blushing a little? Luckily, it was dark, so Viggo wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Thank you.”

Heather worked on her plan as they walked back to his tent. She supposed she could just work on trying to kill him this very night, but where would that land her? Ryker would probably just take charge and follow a similar path to Viggo, which was to find the Flightmare. What did they need it for anyway? It would probably be best to start with that, try to get some information out of him.

They arrived back at his tent, and Viggo released her, went over to one of his chests. “Care for a drink? We may be planning but I should still be a good host.”

“Nothing too strong, please,” Heather responded.

“Oh, not to worry.” Viggo opened the chest, withdrew a bottle. “I’m not one for anything really strong myself. Don’t want to hinder the mind too much, you see.”

_ Dammit.  _ It had seemed unlikely, but Heather had hoped that Viggo would be into some of the strong alcohol like his brother. People were always more willing to talk once drunkenness had set in.

Viggo poured two cups of the wine - red - for each of them, then went over to Heather and handed her a cup. She’d seen him pour it, but just to make sure there was no chance of poisoning, she watched him drink, kept an eye on his throat to watch for a swallow to make sure he wasn’t just wetting his lips with it and pretending to drink. He swallowed, and so she took a sip and did the same. She didn’t know why she was worried about poisoning anyway. He’d put his trust in her, told her who he thought was actually double-crossing him.

“So, I suppose you’ll need a map?”

“That would be helpful, yes,” Heather answered. She purposefully changed her gait as she went over to the table in the tent, sauntering, swaying her hips - not enough to be ridiculous, but enough to be noticeable. She felt Viggo’s eyes on her when she did that. Good. She set her cup down, turned to him, leaned back against the table with her arms by her sides, leaving her front open to his gaze. She knew her figure was still noticeable even through her armor, and Viggo did too, giving her a quick, satisfied up-and-down before coming towards her to put his cup down as well. He leaned much too close to her to do so, briefly pressing his body against hers, brushing his hand against hers after setting the cup down and drawing away. He made no indication of knowing he’d broken past the boundaries of her personal space, and certainly didn’t apologize either. So Heather’s little tricks were working, and he’d decided it was time to play some of his own.

Once Viggo had retrieved the map for her, Heather turned away from him and spread it out on the table, leaning too far over it to show him her rear and the shape of her breasts. She knew she was attractive, and she had to use that, wherever that might lead. Viggo certainly didn’t seem shy.

“Charcoal would be nice too,” Heather said, observing the map. “I have to mark it up.”

“Oh, of course.” Viggo came forward to stand by her side, handing her the writing utensil. Once she’d taken it, he briefly stroked his hand over her arm, then gently took her braid and moved it to hang over her back. “There. Don’t want your lovely hair getting in the way.”

“Thank you.” Heather was trying to ignore the tingles she was feeling from his touch. He was attractive, but he was an enemy, and this was business. She had to seduce him, not be seduced  _ by  _ him.

“The Flightmare follows this algae trail,” Heather said, indicating where by drawing a line on the map. “I’ve been tracking the dragon and its migration patterns.”

“Any particular reason why?” Viggo leaned against the table, taking his cup in one hand and sipping from it.

“Curiosity, mostly.”

Viggo made an approving purring sound at that, and Heather felt wetness gathering in her nether region at the sound of it, but she ignored it for now. “I do like that in a partner.”

Viggo had probably very specifically left out what kind of partner. Business partner? ...Sexual partner?

Heather tapped the end of the charcoal against the map, looked up at him from under her lashes. “What do you need this dragon for?”

“I’m afraid that shall stay a secret for now, my dear,” Viggo answered, reaching over and briefly stroking her under the chin before lowering his hand to the table. “But I will reveal my plans to you when needed.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me?” Heather straightened, took a few sips from her cup, meeting his gaze from over the rim, trying to give him her most sultry look possible. She shifted closer to him, placing the cup back down. She found his hand on the table, gently traced her fingers over his. Gods, his hands were so large, and she had a quick image of him with one between her legs and the other on her breast. “You’ve already confided in me.”

Viggo smiled, poked her playfully on the nose. “One secret per night, okay? Now, be good for me and mark down that location.”

“Of course.” Heather turned back to the table, took the charcoal again, and circled the spot where the Flightmare should be. She’d have to tell Hiccup about this tomorrow, make sure that he’d be waiting for them if she couldn’t manage to take out Viggo herself by then. 

Viggo set his cup down, casually put an arm around her as he peered at the map. “That’ll take about a week’s journey.”

“Not if we took my dragon.”

Viggo chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. “I’m afraid I’m not too eager to get on a dragon’s back.”

Heather glanced at him. “Is it because it’ll be just the two of us?”

“Oh, certainly not. I was planning on it being just us and a group of Hunters anyway,” Viggo told her. He straightened and pulled his arm off of her, gestured to the long scars on the left side of his neck that continued under his clothes. “But as you can see, I’m not quite fond of the creatures.”

Heather gingerly reached up a hand to rest it against the side of Viggo’s neck to touch his scars. They were obvious even just by touch, the skin there rough and raised. 

“How did this happen?” If Heather couldn’t get the reason he needed the Flightmare tonight, at least she could try to find some sort of weakness in him that could be exploited later.

“It was a hunt that went badly when I was younger,” Viggo explained, reaching his hand up to take hers. They were standing so close now, bodies nearly pressed together. “I was lucky the Monstrous Nightmare missed my jugular. Still nearly died anyway, but at least I had a greater chance at life this way.”

Heather smiled a little. “I’d definitely say that’s a good thing.” That was a lie, but Viggo couldn’t know that. She gave him an endearing look, leaned her head in, reaching for his lips. He closed the space between them, mouth touching hers, and Heather let her eyes close. His lips were soft and gentle against hers, and then she felt his tongue teasing at hers and she opened her mouth to him with a sigh. He wrapped both his arms around her waist, pulled her tight against him. For some time, Heather lost herself to the experience, even forgot that this was an enemy and a man that she would later have to kill.

She was gasping for breath once he pulled away, resting her hands on the armor that covered his chest. She could feel Viggo undoing her belts, and then they were dropping to the floor. She reached down towards Viggo’s belt to do the same, being careful of the spikes on it, but then he took her hands to stop her.

“No, darling, this is just for you.”

“You don’t want me to do anything for you?”

“I think you’re doing enough by helping me, aren’t you?” He brought one of her hands to his mouth and kissed at her fingers. “Consider this a thank you.”

Heather didn’t know how she felt about that. How was she going to get anything out of him if she couldn’t make him vulnerable and it would just be her? Though, she didn’t argue. She would have to go along with Viggo to make him trust her more, and besides, part of her wanted this anyway.

“Alright.”

Their mouths touched again, the kiss more heated, hungry, tongues intertwining. They broke apart only when Viggo had to pull off pieces of Heather’s armor. Then she was left in a gray tunic and dark leggings, and Viggo was feeling over her body, but not yet venturing under her clothes. He pulled her into him and she yelped when the spikes on his belt suddenly jabbed at her.

“My apologies,” Viggo said, quickly letting go of her. “Perhaps I should take some of this off. Causing you discomfort is the least of my intentions.”

Heather nodded breathlessly. “I think that would be a good idea.”

Viggo was quick, but graceful with removing his armor. Only once he’d been stripped down to a long, sleeveless black tunic and his pants did he grab her again, and it was much more comfortable to be pulled into him this time. The only thing Heather felt jabbing at her now was between Viggo’s legs, and she smirked a little at it. Maybe she would be able to get him to be completely vulnerable and open himself up to her. She began grinding her hips against him, and Viggo hummed with his lips pressed against her neck.

“I do like a woman who isn’t shy about what she wants,” he murmured. “But we’ll save that for another time.”

“I could take care of that for you,” Heather panted, still working herself against him. By Thor, she really did want that inside of her. “Help you relax.”

Heather gave a startled cry as Viggo suddenly grabbed at her ass with one hand and then was lifting her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around him and grabbed at his shoulders to help him hold her, loving all the muscle she felt in his body, loving the way she was being touched by him. 

“Duck your head,” Viggo warned. She did, and then he was taking her through a pair of tent flaps into another section of the tent. Heather guessed it was his bedroom, and this was made clear as he laid her down on a bed covered in soft furs, settling himself on top of her. She was smothered in his musk and the feeling of him against her, and then his taste as he once again found her mouth with his. His hands delved under her tunic, stroked over her stomach and to her breasts. Heather moaned into his mouth as he squeezed lightly and massaged them. His hands were warm, and much softer than her own, an indication that most of the physical work of dragon hunting went to Ryker.

Viggo let go of one breast to lift up her shirt and bare them. He lifted himself up to look at her, pinched her right nipple almost experimentally. Heather gasped and arched into him, clutching at his tunic.

“Oh, these are beautiful.” His voice was like the low slide of gravel, and then he was lowering his mouth to her breasts, kissing at them, then taking a nipple into his mouth and gingerly sucking. Heather groaned with need, curved herself up into him, desperately pressing herself against his erection. 

Viggo seemed to ignore her movements. He trailed his hands down over her to grasp at her pants and bring them down around her thighs along with her underwear. Completely wanting his cock now and not even bothering to deny it, Heather reached eagerly for Viggo’s pants, but then he was taking her wrists, shoving them up above her head. He worked his hips against her, and she moaned at the friction, of having him so close, yet still separated by clothing.

“Don’t worry, Heather.” He managed to take ahold of both her wrists in one hand and keep them pinned above her, trapping her underneath him. She knew she should have felt scared being under the leader of the Dragon Hunters like this, but she didn’t. She’d earned his trust. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Then his other hand was delving down between them, fingers finding exactly where she wanted to be touched with no problem at all. Heather whined a little and bucked up into him, loving how big and warm his fingers were against her.

Viggo laughed a little. “Already wet for me, are you?”

Heather bit her lower lip, met his eyes, and nodded. He was stroking her clit tenderly, slowly, but she wanted more. She tried to pull her hands from his grip, wanting to take control and show him exactly how she wanted to be pleased, but he held her firm. His mouth went to the side of her neck as he continued with his ministrations, and she tilted her head for him, closed her eyes, moaned softly.

Then Viggo was slipping two fingers down into her and she breathed his name, bucked into him again as his thumb began rubbing at her clit. He didn’t speed up what he was doing though, just slowly slid his fingers in and out of her. It was pleasing and maddening all at once. She wanted  _ more _ , wanted him to go faster.

“Viggo,  _ please _ .”

“Yes, my dear?” he asked, a teasing note to his voice. He clearly knew what she wanted, but wanted to hear her say it.

“Faster.”

Viggo made a humming, purring sound against her throat that only made the fire in her burn more intensely. “As you wish.”

He followed through on her words, fingering her with more gusto, covering her throat in open-mouthed kisses that she hoped wouldn’t leave any marks. Heather gave a satisfied cry, tried again to pull her hands free to at least touch him. He shoved his fingers deep, curled them inside of her in a “come here” motion that made her shudder. He’d found her pleasure spot, and he angled his fingers to rub at it insistently, thumb still working at her clit. Pleasure raced through her in burning streams, curling her toes and tightening her hands into fists, pooling right in her core in a lake of fire.

It all released in a giant burst of pleasure that had Heather shaking and moaning. Her walls clenched desperately around Viggo’s fingers, and his thumb still worked to burn white-hot sensation into her. It soon became too much, and she relaxed her hips back down onto the bed. Viggo seemed to know what she meant by the movement and withdrew his fingers from her. Then he met her gaze as she was working on catching her breath, brought his fingers to his mouth to suck on her juices.

“Mm, you taste rather good,” he told her, releasing her wrists. He leaned over, pressed both of his hands beside her, and kissed her deeply. Then he pulled away, sighed. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Heather.”

“And you.” She reached up a hand to run fingers through his hair. She wanted to stay the night with him, but looking at his face and the shadows under his eyes, it was evident that he didn’t sleep much.

“Now, I’m sorry to have to kick you out, but I have business to attend to.” He was lifting himself off of her, and Heather was left to put her clothes back into place. “And I’m sure Dagur is wondering where you are.”

“He can be overprotective,” Heather told him, standing though her legs felt like they were made of jelly. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a good long while. She pulled her pants back up, smoothed down her tunic.

“Well, I hope he won’t mind me taking you from him for our voyage.” Viggo slipped a hand around her waist, kissed her briefly on the lips. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow night.”

Heather nodded. Then Viggo let go of her to allow her to go back to the main part of his tent, don her armor, and then leave. She was left questioning if that night had been successful in anything but fulfilling her own desires.


	2. Chapter 2

Viggo was waiting for Heather when she landed Windshear on the deck of the ship. She dismounted, went over to him.

“Where were you all day?”

Heather couldn’t help feeling nervous at the question. She’d just returned from bringing information to Hiccup and Astrid. Viggo couldn’t possibly suspect that though. He didn’t think she was the traitor.

“Out flying with Windshear,” she answered smoothly. “She won’t like being cooped up on a ship.” She stroked her dragon on the snout.

Viggo looked Windshear over. “A rather well behaved animal, isn’t she? Odd that you would help us hunt dragons when you ride one.”

“All the better to catch them by,” Heather lied. “If you know enough to ride one, you know  _ more  _ than enough to catch one.”

Viggo’s mouth upturned in a small smile. “Smart. And she’ll be fine out here on the deck?”

Heather gave a nod, and at that, Viggo was wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. Excitement tingled in her stomach. 

“Good, because I know exactly how we can pass the time on this voyage.”

  
  


Again, Viggo wasn’t allowing Heather to do anything for him. He had her naked in his lap, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding fingers through her slick folds. The only things he’d removed before sitting in the chair and pulling her body against him was his belt and his pauldrons so as not to accidentally injure her with the spikes on them. Her back rested against hard armor.

Heather twisted, took his face in one hand to turn it towards her.

“Why won’t you let me do anything for you?”

“All in due time,” he responded softly. He leaned his head forward and pressed his mouth to her jaw. “But not this night. You think I’m not satisfied simply pleasuring a beauty such as yourself?” At the words, he curled his fingers hard against her clit, and Heather gasped, rotated her hips to get more of the sensation. 

“I’m used to men wanting something from me,” she admitted as Viggo began rubbing hard at her clit. She moaned after her words, tilted her head back against his shoulder and arched into him.

Viggo stroked his other hand up her torso to fondle at one of her breasts. He laughed lightly against her neck, the sound and feel of his voice making her eyes roll back. 

“The only thing I want from you is your pleasure.”

Heather wrapped her arm around his head and gripped at his hair, losing herself to his touch. She could try to get information from him later, whenever that would be.

Viggo easily made her reach orgasm with his fingers, but he didn’t appear to be finished with her yet. He laid her down on the table in the room, took ahold of her thighs and spread them wide. Then he was burying his face against her and lapping up the wetness from her climax.

“Oh gods!” Heather exclaimed, wrapping her legs around his shoulders, getting as good of a grip as she could on his short hair. The way his mouth and tongue were soft and hot against her made up for the scratching of his beard at her folds and inner thighs. Hel, she even liked that sensation. 

Viggo was thorough with her, fingering her and licking and kissing at her until she was spasming underneath him and crying out in rapture. He made her endure that maddening peak of pleasure, leaving her confused as to whether she wanted to beg for more or beg for him to stop. 

Eventually, he pulled away from her, letting her cries die down into heaving breaths. He stood by her, stroked a hand over her thigh, her stomach, her body still quivering.

“Was that to your liking?” Viggo squeezed at one of her breasts as if he just couldn’t help himself.

Heather simply nodded. She hadn’t had many sexual experiences, but Viggo was certainly the best she’d ever had, and he hadn’t even put his cock in her yet.

Viggo smiled warmly at her, showing her the humanity in his eyes. It made her question if the soullessness was the mask instead of the humanity. She couldn’t figure out which one was real.

“Then I do hope you’ll be joining me in bed tonight. Perhaps I’ll be able to sleep with you around.” He stroked a finger around one of her sensitized nipples, nearly making her shudder at the overstimulation. 

Heather almost denied him, but then realized she might be able to get him to spill some things with some pillow talk. She smiled back at him and nodded once more.

  
  


Heather lay naked on her side with Viggo’s large arms wrapped around her, his legs pulled up to cradle hers. Her hair lay loose around her shoulders, and she could feel Viggo’s breath rustling it on her head. He was the closest to naked he’d been since she’d met him, only wearing a pair of pants. Had Heather not been exhausted and sated from earlier, she would have wanted those to come off. 

“What do we need the Flightmare for?” she asked after some time in comfortable silence, hoping that Viggo hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Still wondering about that, are you?”

Heather shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, if I’m helping you retrieve it I’d like to know why.”

Viggo rested his chin on her shoulder. “That’s fair, I suppose. Well, we need it for its paralyzing mist. It’s going to play a special role in our next move against Hiccup and his Dragon Riders.” 

Viggo nuzzled Heather’s neck with his nose as she pondered that.

“You’ve met Hiccup, yes?”

“I have.”

“He seems quite the formidable opponent. I hate to ask this while lying in bed with you, but…”

“Yes?” Heather prompted, dreadfully curious.

Viggo sighed a little, as if giving in to her. “Is he attractive by any chance?”

That made Heather’s stomach tighten. Viggo couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be interested in Hiccup in that way, not the way Dagur was. She felt sick at the thought of another one of Hiccup’s enemies finding him sexually appealing. She had to deter him.

“Not much to look at,” she responded calmly as if there wasn’t an unpleasant heat flickering through her body.  _ Sorry, Hiccup _ , she apologized, not fully agreeing with what she was about to say. “He’s awkward and gangly. Teeth are too big. Voice is nasally and annoying. I doubt you’d be interested.”

“But his intellect…” Viggo sounded like he wanted to say more, but left it at that. After some time, he kissed her cheek. “Oh, never mind. I’m sorry for asking. I’m quite satisfied with you.”

Heather hated it, but she was satisfied with him too. It was almost a pity she would have to kill him. She planned on trying it the next chance she got, but he had to let his guard down, had to let him lose himself to her. She couldn’t be the only one vulnerable anymore. 

  
  


Heather woke the next morning with something prodding at her backside. At first she wasn’t quite sure of what it was, but as she grew more alert, she realized that Viggo had an erection. Good. Maybe she’d be able to do what she wanted, what she needed to.

She shifted a little, and Viggo must have been waiting for her to wake, because then he spoke, sounding a little flustered.

“My apologies. Goodness, you must think me some kind of brute.” He rolled away from her and onto his back.

“Not at all!” Heather quickly assured him. She moved onto her other side to face him, ran the fingers of one hand through the soft hair on his chest. It was neat as if he trimmed it. “I know it’s not your fault.” She thrusted her pelvis against the side of his thigh. His legs were deliciously thick and powerful-looking, and she was eager to see what was in between them. “I can help you with it.”

Viggo gave her what could almost be called a shy look, which surprised her. She hadn’t taken him for shy in the slightest. Was he self conscious about his size? From what she’d felt of it he was  _ more  _ than adequate.

“You don’t have to.”

Heather trailed her hand down his stomach. She wouldn’t touch him there without his permission, but she could at least come close to it.

“But I want to.”

Viggo hummed in amusement. “You shameless little vixen. I like you.” He cradled the back of her head, pulled her in for a deep kiss. “Alright. You’ll have your wish.”

_ Finally. _

Heather straddled him, then finally brought her attention to the bulge between his legs. It was most definitely large, and she palmed at him through his pants. Viggo’s breath hitched a little and he took a loose hold on her hips.

“I hope you’re not feeling insecure about this,” she said, pulling his pants down to let his cock spring free. She burned with arousal at the sight of it: thick and long with a lovely curve. She took it in one hand, stroked over it, loving the small groan that came from Viggo.

“No,” he panted. “Just didn’t want to make you feel like I was forcing myself on you.”

“Can’t work that way if I want you as well,” Heather said, giving him a small smirk. She continued pumping him slowly as she positioned herself between his legs. Most men adored what she planned on doing, and hopefully it would make Viggo’s guard come down even more. She had to have him relaxed and completely trusting of her.

Heather slid down onto her stomach, leaned her head forward, and licked over the head of Viggo’s cock. He breathed a sigh, clutched at her hair with one hand. She smiled a little before continuing to lap at him. Then she flicked her eyes up to meet his as she began to take him into her mouth. She was actually a little nervous about this. She’d never done this with someone so big before, and she didn’t even know if she was truly good at it. 

Viggo’s eyes were flaming with lust and it just made hers burn all the hotter. He massaged his fingers into her scalp as a form of praise as she bobbed herself over the first few inches of him, nearly touching the back of her throat.

“That’s it, my dear,” he breathed, voice a low and satisfying rumble. “Do you think you can take me all the way?”

Heather pulled off of him, filled the space with her hand. “I’m not so sure.”

Viggo pressed at her head, lowering it back to him. Apparently he wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. “Just do it slowly. Remember to breathe through your nose.”

Having no choice in the matter, Heather opened her mouth and let Viggo push her down onto him. She wasn’t uncomfortable with it at first, just continued what she’d been doing before, stroking him around the base and tapping at him with her tongue. But then he touched the back of her throat and she started gagging, but she braced herself, tried her best not to pull off of him. His fingers were pressing hard against her head anyway, and she didn’t know if they would let up. She gripped at his thigh to steel herself, determined to do this.

Eventually, she was forced all the way down on him, by both Viggo and herself, and her throat was convulsing in the most uncomfortable way. All she wanted to do was pull off of him and cough, but he’d made a pleased sound at this, and it had been louder than the other ones he’d given. If she just did what he wanted she’d have a better chance at killing him.

Viggo finally released her head, just began gently stroking her hair, and Heather pulled off of him, choking. She met his eyes, but couldn’t determine what was in them. There certainly wasn’t any apology. So, knowing she wouldn’t get one, once she could breathe again, Heather went back down on him. Not all the way though, but she tried her best to pleasure him like this. He certainly wasn’t as loud as other people she’d been with, making her question if she was even good or not. He would just occasionally quietly gasp or sigh or groan. It was hard to tell how much satisfaction he was getting out of it.

Heather decided it was time for the main event, eager to feel him inside her in a much more pleasurable way. She straddled him again, positioned herself over his cock to slide down onto him.

But then Viggo was suddenly grabbing at her and slamming her down onto her back, and she yelped in surprise, gripped at his shoulders. 

“Sorry, darling, but I usually prefer to be on top.” He stuck one hand between them to position himself, and she felt the tip of him pressing against her. His entrance into her body was less like a smooth glide and more like a labored push. He was large, so it took a bit of time and a few slow thrusts of his hips for him to become fully sheathed in her. It hurt a little, but Heather had never been so full and satisfied in her life and she was  _ loving  _ it.

Viggo took ahold of her left leg, lifted it, which just had him reaching deeper and going at an angle that stimulated her best spot, and Heather moaned, rocked herself into him, dug her nails into his shoulders.

“Am I good for you, my dear?”

Heather was unable to give an answer, as Viggo began steadily rocking his hips, and all she could do was hold onto him and whine instead. He was most definitely more than good. For a minute or so she let herself forget her mission, focused only on the slide of him thrusting into her body, the sound of their skin coming together, the feeling of every part of him that rested against her.

Then Heather came back to herself and, though moaning in pleasure and not wanting this to end, she gripped at Viggo’s throat with one hand and squeezed hard, hoping he would be too taken by surprise to act.

Viggo’s eyes went wide for a moment and he choked. Though, of all things, he began thrusting at her harder, making her shudder and her grip weaken. Then he was pulling her hand off of him, and his went around her throat instead.

_ I’m so screwed.  _ Viggo was bigger than her, on top of her, in total control of the sensations rocketing through her body. He was going to kill her, going to-

He wasn’t squeezing all that hard: just enough to lessen the amount of air she was getting, but not stop it completely. What was he doing?

Viggo chuckled. “Choking. Didn’t know you were into that.”

_ Oh, so he thinks I’m being kinky.  _ Heather felt her face flushing, feeling stupid. She should have acted some other way, should have just rammed the side of her hand into his throat as hard as possible to snap his windpipe. She couldn’t act again right away now, or else he’d suspect something. She’d just have to go with this. And, part of her didn’t entirely mind, wanted to complete this act with him at least once before ending his life.

Just as she began growing lightheaded and her moans were turning into squeaks, Viggo released her neck. Heather gasped in air, then let out her voice in any way she could to release her pleasure. He was slamming her now, rocking her body with it, and she was back to holding onto his shoulders to brace herself against the onslaught and have some sort of grounding force through the pleasure.

“I mean -  _ agh… _ \- you did just meet me,” Heather pointed out.

“That is-” a grunt- “true.”

It didn’t take too long for Heather to reach climax, and she actually shouted as her muscles clenched around Viggo to brand white fire into her core. He kept on through her orgasm, past it, and all she could do was claw desperately at his back, writhe, and try to remember how to breathe.

Heather realized something through her bliss. She didn’t want Viggo cumming in her. The last thing she wanted was to be pregnant with the baby of her enemy.

“V-Viggo.”

“Yes, my dear?” How was he managing to keep his composure while doing this to her? Wasn’t he feeling good as well?

“Are you close?”

Viggo sloughed off his composure for a moment to moan and nod his head, and the sound of his voice had Heather curving into him more.

“Don’t want you -  _ hah! _ \- f-finishing in me.”

“Oh come now, Heather.” He passed a groan through gritted teeth. “It would be a disgrace to finish  _ on  _ you.”

“Don’t,” she protested. She knew it would be nice to feel that, to have the evidence of his pleasure inside of her, but she couldn’t let that happen. Though, she found she couldn’t exactly fight him either.

“You’d have me finish in the cold?” He slowed his pace for a few moments, suddenly picked it up again, and then slowed, playing with her, and it just felt so  _ good. _ He was reaching all of the right places inside of her, and the fullness of having him in her was simply a pleasure all on its own.

Heather realized there was no point in arguing with him. He was going to do what he wanted whether she liked it or not. She just prayed to the gods that this wouldn’t result in an unwanted baby.

Viggo stopped his game with the pacing, deciding on a fast pivoting of his hips and staying there. Heather gasped and cried out, feeling another orgasm building. She wrapped her right leg around the backs of his thighs, her left still being lifted to give him a good angle.

Everything came crashing down around her all at once. Viggo moaned and sighed as a hot liquid began to pump into her insides that were contracting with climax. And, no one had ever been able to have her do this during sex before, but Heather screamed with it. The pleasure was blinding and maddening, and her body shook and her toes curled. 

In a matter of moments, it was done, and Viggo was releasing her leg to let her lower it back down and rest. He didn’t pull out of her, simply wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his side, taking her with him. They were both breathing hard, sweat beading and dripping between them, and Heather was trembling. Without a word, Viggo kissed her hungrily on the mouth, and Heather responded in kind, even as a mix of shame and determination began to eat away at her. Her mission wasn’t complete, but the sexual act was, and she wondered if maybe she wasn’t trying hard enough to kill him because she was liking this too much. There was no denying her attraction to him, and now she felt as if maybe her feelings were getting in the way. She’d just have to try again.


	3. Chapter 3

When Viggo had his back turned while dressing, Heather snuck a small knife under the pillow on what now seemed to be her side of the bed, a weapon to be used for later… because she _would_ kill him later. She would! She even had a vial of poison in a pouch on her belt to try on one of his drinks when he wasn’t paying attention. There were many ways to kill someone, and Heather knew a lot of them, but the key here was doing it in a way where Viggo wouldn’t be able to fight back. She was a good fighter, but he was more than twice the size of her. She hadn’t seen him use the sword he was now strapping onto his back, but based on the size of his arms and how easily he handled the large weapon, he knew how to use it. A fight with him was something she would prefer to avoid. So, she had her more discreet methods. It would be an assassination rather than a battle.

 

“How do you think your friends are holding up?” Viggo asked as he moved a piece. He was currently teaching Heather how to play Maces and Talons. He’d beaten her twice already, and she doubted she would ever win against him.

Heather froze, looked from the board to him. _My friends?_ The day had been rather relaxing so far, but now his words had worry prickling in her stomach.“Excuse me?”

“Dagur and Ryker,” Viggo clarified. “You think they’re getting along without you? I imagine without supervision they would tear each other’s throats out.” He was giving her an amused smile.

Heather’s anxiety died at his words. She’d thought he was referring to the Dragon Riders, as they truly were her friends. She didn’t know why she felt so on edge about that. He’d _told_ her he trusted her, and had even told her who he thought the traitor actually was. Then he’d even slept with her. He didn’t suspect her in the slightest. None of their conversation as they’d walked around the deck that morning had even hinted at any suspicion, and neither had their conversation during lunch. Viggo trusted her and was attracted to her, just like she needed him to be. Sometimes she got this feeling that he somehow _knew_ , but then her anxiety would always be eased. He didn’t have the slightest idea and she was looking too much into his words and actions.

“They tried to do that even with me around,” Heather told him.

Viggo shrugged, seeming entirely unconcerned. “Well, if one kills the other, hopefully it’ll be the traitor that ends up dead. Have you been thinking about who it could be?”

“It’s hard to tell since I’m not with them.” Heather was studying the board now. She took a piece - ironically, the traitor - and made her move. “I keep going back through everything in my head, trying to figure out who it could be.”

“Ah, it’s alright,” Viggo said. “I did say we could get to work on that after this business with the Flightmare. I was merely curious.” He studied the board, stroking at his beard. Then he took a sip of his wine. Heather had a cup of it as well. She had yet to get a chance to poison Viggo’s. She needed to somehow cause a distraction.

Viggo made his move and ended up claiming her traitor piece. He gave a small smile as he held it up. “Your moves are a little predictable, Heather.”

“I did only start learning today,” she pointed out. She’d come up with a plan now. She’d practiced sleight of hand, and would hopefully be able to steal one of the pieces without him noticing. She reached towards the board as if to make her move, very quickly slipped a piece into her sleeve, then drew her hand back as if in confusion, dumping the piece into her lap and hiding it between her thighs. It all happened so quickly, and Viggo made no indication that he noticed.

“There’s a piece missing,” she told him.

“Really?” Viggo put down the traitor piece, leaned over the board, and furrowed his brow. “Hm, seems you’re right. I thought this was a full set when I laid it out.”

“It’s the Viking chief, right?”

Viggo nodded, now looking around the table, but, of course, the piece wasn’t there.

“Do you have another one?”

“Oh, of course. Just a little upsetting that this set isn’t complete.” Viggo stood, turned and went to go looking through one of the chests in the room.

Heather moved fast, but silently, once Viggo had his back turned to her. She reached over and took his cup, removed the vial of poison from her pouch, and dumped the contents into his wine. He was still looking through the chest once she’d returned the cup to its original place.

Then, Heather took the piece, got down from her chair, and positioned it under the table.

“Hey, I found it!” she called.

Viggo turned as she was coming up from under the table, holding it up.

“It fell on the floor,” she told him, handing it to him as he came back over.

“Odd,” Viggo said, taking it. “I didn’t even hear it fall.”

“Well, you do get very engrossed in the game.”

“Ah, you’re right. Let’s get back to it, shall we?” Viggo sat, pushed in his chair, and Heather did the same. “Looks like we’ll have to start again though, since one of us did move this piece before we lost it, and I can’t quite remember where it was.”

“We could guess,” Heather suggested.

“But that’s just terrible gamesmanship.” Viggo reached for his wine, and Heather was hoping he would drink it, but he just slid it a little farther down the table and out of his way. “Besides, if I place it, I could just be cheating.” When he looked at her there was a slightly mischievous glint to his eyes. “And if you place it you could be doing the same.”

Heather sighed. “I’ll admit that I don’t really have the patience to start a new game.”

“Well, we can do something else then.” Now Viggo’s eyes held a look she was getting familiar with: lust, and it made Heather’s body burn with excitement.

Heather gave him what she hoped was a sultry smile, and Viggo reached for his cup.

_Come on. Drink it._ She admitted that having sex with him would certainly be more than satisfying, but she had to focus on her mission. Viggo had to die.

“I’ll clean this up then.” Heather stood, began gathering up the pieces.

The cup touched Viggo’s lips, but then he was quickly putting it down. “Oh, please. Allow me.” He stood, taking the game off of Heather’s hands, and she buried her frustration as best as she could. He’d been so _close._ He gave her a smirk that started a wetness in her cunt. “Why don’t you work on undressing to show me that lovely body of yours?”

Heather made herself quickly down the rest of her wine before doing so. She knew it wouldn’t help her think straight, but maybe it would help her relax and better hide her frustration. Then, she began undressing and tossing her armor and clothes on the floor as Viggo put the game away.

Viggo made a purring sound in his throat once he came back over and found her naked. He was now working on taking his armor off as well.

“Give me a little twirl.”

Heather did so, feeling a little silly, but Viggo made an approving sound. Once she turned back around he had another order.

“Touch yourself for me.”

That wasn’t hard to do. Heather was eager for stimulation, to ease the throbbing between her legs. She reached one hand down to rub at her clit as she watched Viggo undress. She bit her lower lip a little, knowing he would find that attractive.

“Gods, how do you not have men following you everywhere you walk?” Viggo questioned.

“They tend to get turned off by all the weapons,” Heather panted. “The women are a little braver.”

Heather stroked herself more desperately as Viggo removed his tunic and the large bulge in his pants was revealed. She wondered if he would keep his pants on, but then he was pulling his boots off. She’d finally have him fully bare to her.

“So you have no preference in gender either?” Viggo asked curiously.

“No.” If Heather was being truthful with herself, she had a thing for Astrid, but she hadn’t pushed their relationship past friendship, not sure if she felt the same way. Besides, Astrid had eyes for Hiccup, and Heather didn’t know if she was capable of having the same feelings for multiple people.

Heather moaned a little once Viggo was completely naked. His body was large and muscular, and she especially liked his legs, how thick his thighs were. He was stroking his hardened length a little as he came over to her, and Heather tilted her head up to look at him.

“Make yourself cum,” Viggo ordered. Then he was grabbing at her with both hands, one on her hip and the other at the back of her head to bring her into a crushing kiss. Heather moaned desperately into his mouth as she worked faster at herself to do exactly what he wanted. His tongue was shoved into her mouth and she took it, bucking against her own hand.

The hand on her hip moved to run over her back, then down to grope at her ass. He tugged hard at her braid, sparking a stinging in her scalp, before moving his hand to her throat and squeezing at the sides of her neck. It left her with the ability to breathe, but it had her blood rushing, and the hold managed to increase her pleasure. She liked the feeling of Viggo’s large hand around her neck even though it should have scared her, liked something about the power he wielded through that touch. He could suffocate her, kill her, but was choosing not to. Somehow that managed to make her feel a little guilty. He wouldn’t kill her, while she would kill him.

The guilt quickly faded as her orgasm crested over her. She whined into his mouth, clutched at the back of his neck to have something to hold onto to help her ride through it.

Once it was done, Viggo released her mouth and her neck, took ahold of the hand she’d used and placed her wet fingers into his mouth, meeting her gaze as he sucked and licked her juices off them. Though she’d climaxed, Heather’s arousal had yet to die, especially with the sensual way Viggo was looking at her with her fingers in his mouth.

He licked the tips of them one by one, then let her place that hand on his chest to caress over him. He then took his cock, placed it between her legs, but didn’t enter her, instead rubbed it over her to collect her cum and slick himself up with it. Heather was breathing hard at the sensations, of the feeling of him erect between her legs, and because of her. He pinched at a nipple that was sensitized from orgasm, and Heather cried out at the flash of pain and pleasure, arching into him.

Then Viggo was cupping each of her breasts, thrusting his hips to slide his cock against her.

“Tilt your head back.”

Heather did so, and Viggo eagerly went for her neck, kissing and then sucking at her skin. Heather no longer cared if he left marks on her. She didn’t have to hide them from either Dagur or Ryker. She groaned, caressed at his back, dug her nails into his chest. His thumbs worked at the hardened crests of her nipples.

Viggo’s movements quickly grew more and more hungered, and then suddenly he was taking her and turning her around to slam her down onto the table on her stomach. The cup of poisoned wine tipped and spilled with the motion, but Heather was too engrossed in what was happening to care overly much.

Viggo yanked her arms behind her back with one hand, and then roughly entered her, not as careful about it as he had been that morning. Heather yelped at the shock of sensation, and then he was fully sheathed in her, tightly gripping one hip with his free hand, hard enough to leave bruises.

Heather could do nothing but press the side of her face against the wood and moan as he began thrusting with an almost furious passion. The table rocked and the pool of red shuddered and trickled and dripped onto the floor.

  

Heather couldn’t help groaning a little when Viggo lifted her leg. She was positioned on her side with him against her back, and he had his knee bent, was placing her leg over his to keep it elevated and leave her open to him. She was sore from earlier, and a quick perusal of her body showed bruises and marks from Viggo’s mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Heather breathed as Viggo pushed his cock into her. It was so good from this position. _He_ was so good.

Viggo let out a light laugh, kissed at the side of her face.

“Should I take that as a good thing?” he asked.

Heather hurriedly nodded, a whimper leaving her.

“Excellent.” Viggo sighed as he settled himself fully in her. Then he had one arm going underneath her so he could reach at her front and squeeze and massage one breast. His other hand went between her legs to stroke at her clit as he began slowly thrusting.

Heather whined and moaned at the way he was putting fire into her nerves. She let her eyes close, and Viggo kissed and sucked at her ear.

“That’s it, darling. Just relax.” His voice was a husky rumble in her ear that only added to her arousal. “I’ll go slow for now.”

Viggo peppered her shoulder and the side of her neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses, pinching lightly at her nipple, stroking over her clit in circles with two large fingers. For the time being Heather forgot her mission, succumbed to him and the pleasure he was giving her. She grabbed at his arm to steady herself.

Viggo moved back up her shoulder and neck with his mouth, reached the side of her face, and so Heather craned her head back towards him to give him what he wanted, readily accepting his tongue into her mouth. Viggo hummed happily into her mouth. Heather was learning that, though he was rather quiet during sex, he got vast amounts of enjoyment out of this. He wouldn’t have cum in her twice if he didn’t.

Only when Viggo relinquished her mouth did Heather remember what she was here to accomplish. She reached an arm over to slip it under the pillow. She almost had ahold of the knife when Viggo suddenly moved his hand from between her legs, grabbed hard at her wrist, and pinned her arm by her side. At first Heather panicked and worried that he knew what she’d been about to do, but he made no indication of it, began thrusting into her harder with a grunt. It seemed he just liked restraining people during sex.

Heather’s disappointment wasn’t all that strong, not with the way pleasure was being pounded into her. She liked being held against Viggo’s body, even liked the way he was restraining her. She’d never enjoyed being subdued by someone before; usually she was the one to take control and be on top, but it was refreshing to have that switched around.

She figured she could kill him later, when they were resting after finishing. She would grab the knife, whip around, and slice into his throat. But that was later. For now, she was enjoying the way Viggo was fucking her like both their lives depended on it.

  

Viggo stroked a hand over Heather’s arm. She had it under the pillow. She reached farther under it, so he curled his fingers against her clit with his other hand. She shuddered and cried out, began panting as he rubbed at her. They’d finished their joining, and Heather was surely being overstimulated by the touching. Her hand came out from under the pillow and she clutched tightly at his wrist.

“ _Agh! Viggo!_ ”

He took great satisfaction in tormenting her like this, rubbed harder until she was shaking and squirming. He knew he was pushing her past her limits, but that was the whole idea.

“S-stop,” she stammered. Her voice hardly came out.

“Sh, sh.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her face. “Just a little longer, and then I’ll let you sleep.”

Heather released an anguished moan. It wasn’t long before her voice turned into cries. Viggo wished he were in a good position to see her face.

Finally, he stopped, and Heather went slack against him, chest heaving, sweating and exuding utter exhaustion. That had been the point: to tire her out.

Viggo pet at her pubic hair. “There you are. What a good girl.” He kissed her ear. “Sleep, now, Heather, my dear. It’s alright.”

It only took a few minutes for Heather’s body to relax and her breathing to go even with sleep. Then Viggo waited longer, not wanting to move right away and wake her. He was tired himself. He’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, quietly moving to a separate bed once Heather had slipped into unconsciousness. Then he’d woken a few hours before her and gotten into bed with her again to give the impression that he’d been there the whole time. There was no way he was actually going to fall asleep so close to her. That would give her the best opportunity to kill him, which he knew was what she was trying to accomplish.

After some time, Viggo left the bed and pulled his pants on. Then, he reached under the pillow.

“Let’s see what you were planning on killing me with,” he mused. He clutched the hilt of a weapon, then carefully pulled it out, was met with a small knife. He chuckled a little.

_She’s rather clever._ That was a compliment coming from him. He didn’t think many people were clever or intelligent. She was by no means a match for him, but any other person would have been dead by her hand already. Probably happily too. She was rather good with her body. She knew what was attractive about herself and used that to lure people in. Granted, he’d gone to her much easier than he would have with someone else. He wanted to give the impression that he was falling for her tricks and her charm, wanted her to think that he trusted her and had no idea that she was the one double crossing him. It was all a game, and she was playing it well for someone so young, but he was a master at this.

Viggo replaced the knife under the pillow so as to not tip her off that he knew about it. Then he looked her over, and his right hand brushed over her lower abdomen.

_I wonder…_

She was royalty, and a marriage with her would secure him more land, money, and power. Though, there was no way either of them could keep up this charade forever, no way that she would willingly accept a proposal. However, if she was pregnant, then she wouldn’t have much of a choice but to marry him. Having a baby out of wedlock was frowned upon for a woman, and if she didn’t want her reputation absolutely shattered, she would have to marry the father. Viggo knew the rules and how to bend them to his every whim.

Feeling satisfied, he pulled the blanket over her and then went to a separate room to sleep away from his would-be assassin and hopefully future wife.

 

Heather attempted to kill Viggo many times on their voyage, but each time he somehow managed to stop her or avoid it all together. Sometimes it made Heather wonder if he knew what she was up to, if he was simply pretending to be oblivious to her motives. But then he would discuss who the traitor could possibly be with her and her worries would be eased. He was still guessing, and he really was oblivious to her schemes. His avoidance of death at her hand was purely accidental.

Heather was growing frustrated with herself and him though. She only had a limited amount of time to get rid of him. They only had a few hours left before reaching the Flightmare, and the sun was setting. It looked like she had one more shot at this.

And Viggo was about to take it away from her. She looked at the leather strap he held. It was longer than what she’d expected him to want to bind her with, but it would certainly still work to hinder her movement.

“I’m not so sure,” she told him honestly to his request.

“Why not?” Viggo came forward, stroked his free hand over her arm. She wasn’t wearing her armor, only in her tunic and leggings. He was without armor as well. It had been raining all day, so they’d spent the entirety of it in his rooms, passing the time by talking, playing Maces and Talons, and of course, fucking. “You seem to like it when I restrain your arms, but then that only gives me one hand to pleasure you with. This time, I can use both.”

“But-”

“And I won’t tie it too tightly.”

Heather realized that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d just have to kill him after then. She forced a smile onto her face. “Alright.”

Viggo smiled back, and there was a flicker of humanity in his eyes. “Undress for me.” His voice was low and harsh with arousal, and though Heather was reluctant to go along with him, she was beginning to feel it herself.

She backed away to give herself room to do what he wanted. Once naked, she approached again, and Viggo took one breast in his hand so casually, like his hand was just meant to be on her.

“Turn around and put your hands behind you.”

Heather did so, beginning to feel antsy. The sooner this was over with, the sooner she could finally kill him.

Viggo took her wrists and bound them with the strap, then allowed her to test her range of motion. She could pull her arms forward a little, but anything more than that and the strap was pressing at her back and her sides, stopping her from going further.

“That’s not too tight, is it?” Viggo traced over her spine, sending pleasant tingles through her body.

“No.”

“Splendid.” He had his hands on her shoulders, turning her back towards him. Then he was gently pushing her down onto her knees with one hand, pulling his half-hard cock from his pants with the other. Heather knew what he wanted her to do, and readily took it into her mouth.

“Mm, that’s it.” He placed a hand on her head, his other still holding his cock out to her. “Good girl.”

Heather was thorough with his cock, kissing, licking, and sucking, eagerly lapping up any precum that seeped from him. He was extremely hard now, and he throbbed against her. Heavy sighs left his mouth.

Then Viggo was tugging on her braid, pulling her off of him. “That’s enough, Heather. Don’t want to finish too early after all.” He helped her stand. “Get on the bed on your hands and knees.”

Heather did so, barely managing it with the strap, her core burning when Viggo positioned himself on the bed behind her. Then he was gripping her ass with one hand, the other reaching under her to caress the pads of his fingers against her clit. She gasped when his mouth touched her cunt, pushed back onto him. He kissed at her, twirled and ran his tongue over her, sucked gingerly. Then he had his tongue in her, and then a finger, eating her out and fingering her at the same time. Heather let herself moan loudly at his ministrations, could barely hold herself up under the onslaught of pleasure.

Viggo drew away right before she could reach orgasm, and she released a frustrated cry, which only made him laugh. She felt Viggo get onto his knees, and then he was rubbing the head of his cock over her slit, but not yet entering. She moaned, wiggled herself against him.

“Beg for me, my dear. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Oh, you do?” His voice was teasing.

Heather could barely stand it anymore. She was throbbing and burning and she needed him _inside_ of her.

“I do, I do! Please!”

Viggo slid about an inch into her, and Heather thought she was going to get what she wanted, but then he pulled back, nearly making her scream in frustration. Then, she realized what he wanted from her.

“Viggo, please.” He wanted her to say his name. “Fuck me, Viggo.”

“Well, since you said please.”

Viggo shoved himself inside quite mercilessly, making Heather cry out. He took her by her already-bruised hips as he began fucking her. That, he did without mercy as well, pounding her so hard that the sensation radiated into her stomach.

At the moment, Heather was pleased to let him have his way with her. She’d already decided upon killing him after, so there was nothing wrong with enjoying this first.

Viggo was excellent with providing her with orgasms, so it wasn’t too long before the pleasure was peaking into a white heat and her walls were clenching around him. He actually stopped after that, pulling out and stroking her back, giving her time to recover before he started at her again.

Heather assumed that Viggo would just continue in the same position, but then he was pushing her down onto her stomach and rolling her onto her back. The strap kept her arms firmly at her sides. She had a fleeting thought of grabbing the knife from under the pillow, but it was no use with the way she was bound. And besides, this wasn’t over yet. Viggo climbed on top of her, slid his cock between her thighs and re-entered her body, making her shudder.

He felt all over her as he did this, groping at her breasts and stroking her abdomen and legs. His mouth worked at her too, teeth nibbling at her throat and down to her collarbone. He sucked a mark into her right breast just above her nipple, groaning against her skin. Heather pulled at her restraints, wanting to get free to both return his touching and kill him, but she was stuck like that, trapped underneath him and a victim to his will and command of pleasure over her. She curled her fingers in the furs, desperate for something to hold onto.

He sucked at each of her nipples until they were aching and bruising, but she arched into him nonetheless, the sensations of pain there transferring to her core as pleasure.

She didn’t bother with asking Viggo not to cum inside her. He’d done it every time so far and there would be no reason for him to not do it now. So, when he climaxed, Heather did what she did each time, and prayed to Freya that she wouldn’t get pregnant. The Goddess of Sex and War would understand why she had to do this, would understand why she didn’t want a child from it, so she was certainly the best to pray to.

Viggo came with a groan, and hopefully Heather’s prayers were heard.

 

Heather quietly slipped her knife from underneath the pillow, approached Viggo. He had his back turned, was working on dressing. He didn’t have his tunic or armor on. She had the perfect opportunity.

She raised the knife.

“Shouldn’t you be dressing instead of hanging around in bed?” Viggo asked quite suddenly, turning around. Heather was quick to hide the knife behind her back, but she had nowhere to hide it. She was naked. Taking the time to dress would have had her losing her opportunity. He looked a little surprised upon seeing her standing so close. He hadn’t seen the knife, had he?

“Come now, Heather. You can’t possibly want more of me.”

Thank the gods. He hadn’t seen it.

“Maybe I do.” She stood on her tiptoes, kissed him on the lips. She was hoping that Viggo would fall for this, end up pushing her back on the bed so she’d be able to conceal the knife back under the pillow.

Viggo acted exactly the way she’d wanted him to. He shoved her back onto the bed rather hard, and she had to act quickly to avoid accidentally stabbing herself in the process. She flung her arm out, stuck the knife back under the pillow, as Viggo climbed on top of her. He ran his hands all over her, began making out with her quite hungrily. Heather had the knife in her hand again, and she clutched at Viggo’s back with her free hand. She was ready to stab him.

But then she just… couldn’t. This man had been described to her as a monster, and he hadn’t exactly done much to prove that. She… she _liked_ him.

Hating herself, Heather lowered her arm, and stuck the knife back under the pillow. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill him.

The only way she could justify it was that Hiccup and the Dragon Riders would be waiting. They could take care of Viggo for her. They wouldn’t know that she’d failed, because she hadn’t told anyone that she was going to try to kill Viggo before they got there.

He wasn’t on her for very long. He lifted himself up, gasping. “Now, let’s go catch ourselves a Flightmare.”


	4. Chapter 4

The sudden sound of an explosion was rocking the air, and, not thinking, Heather rushed away from Viggo’s side, out onto the upper deck of the ship. The mountaintop where Hiccup had told her he and the Dragon Riders would be positioned was burning, the fire a bright orange beacon against the dark indigo of the night. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a whole fleet of Dragon Hunter ships. Viggo wasn’t as alone as he’d told her he would be. But how…?

Then it hit her. He  _ knew.  _ He knew she was the one betraying him. She whipped around to face him, disbelief and shock and  _ anger  _ shaking her to her core. She’d thought she was doing a good job to cover everything up, and yet he’d somehow known anyway, and had used her to plan an attack on her friends. And this whole time she’d been oblivious to his schemes, had been in his  _ bed _ , thinking  _ she  _ was the one doing the tricking.

“You set this whole thing up.” Her voice was harsh with anger, betrayal. How could she feel betrayed of all things? She’d known that Viggo was her enemy, and yet she’d fallen for him anyway. Had that been his plan this whole time? To pretend that he was the one falling for her while manipulating her to make it be the other way around?

Viggo was just standing calmly a few feet away from her, not fazed by her emotions. The humanity that he’d shown her, that mask he’d slipped over his eyes, was gone, and terror punched its way cold into her stomach.

Of all things, Viggo held out a piece from Maces and Talons.

“He’s called the Imposter. Some call him the Traitor, as you know.” He held it out to her, looking pleased. “I thought you should have it. As a parting gift.”

A game. That’s what this was. This entire thing was nothing more than a  _ game  _ to him. He was dealing with people’s  _ lives  _ and treating them as nothing but  _ game pieces.  _ Is that what she was to him? Nothing but a lifeless piece of carven stone to be toyed with and then disposed of at his whim? He saw life as a great big board, and himself as the game-master. She was just a piece to get rid of.

Heather just curled her hands into fists, suddenly wanting to punch him in his perfect face. She didn’t know what she could possibly say to him. When she was silent, Viggo continued.

“Pity really. I had hoped you’d be a better adversary.”

That stung. Heather was good at this and she knew that, but all of her attempts at manipulation and intrigue had gotten her nowhere. It didn’t matter how good she was. He was better.

“And after we got off to such a smashing start.” There it was again, that humanity flickering back into his eyes, a look that she’d fallen for. If Viggo hadn’t been above something so silly as winking he would have been doing it. Heather could just tell by the look on his face.

Another burst of catapult fire hit the mountaintop behind her, and that was when Heather lost her cool. She should have killed him sooner, so much sooner, but she was about to do it now. She pulled her axe from her back with a shout, extended it to its full form, and charged at Viggo.

When he merely responded by smirking at her for a split second, Heather realized that she had made the wrong move. 

Viggo moved smoothly, took the axe from her with one hand like it was nothing, and then pinned her against him with it, now gripping the handle with two hands to keep her with her back pressed against him. For not the first time, she felt so small compared to him, but there was nothing arousing about it now - simply fear that had her heart pounding its way out of her chest.

“How did you know?!” she demanded, attempting to wriggle herself free.

Viggo spoke as if he wasn’t straining at all, even with how Heather was pushing against him and trying to get her axe free from his hold.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you.” His breath was hot on her ear, and then she felt the familiar touch of his lips. “You’re no Dragon Hunter, my dear.”

Heather just kept struggling, grunting with the exertion of trying to get free. It was like he wasn’t even trying, and that made her burn with frustration.

“Aw.” The sound was condescending, and despite her struggles he managed to bring his mouth down to her neck, as if he was still trying to seduce her despite the situation, despite the fact that he knew she was his enemy. It sent shivers through her that were anything but pleasant. “Don’t despair. At least your friends will all be dead by the time we arrive.”

Heather froze, eyes going wide, shame and guilt gouging away at her. Her friends were going to die, and it was going to be her fault. It was going to be her fault because she’d fallen for Viggo’s charm, his stupid brown eyes, his soft lips, his practiced hands…

That gave her the burst of energy she needed. She pushed at the axe with her foot, broke free from Viggo’s hold. She got her axe in a tight grip, turned, swinging in a slashing motion to strike at his neck, but she hit nothing but air. He was gone, and she’d failed. She’d failed her mission, failed herself, her friends. She’d allowed herself to be reeled in and tricked, and she knew that whatever bad thing that happened next was her fault.

Heather couldn’t let those emotions swallow her though, so she pushed them down deep. There was a battle at hand, and she’d be damned if she didn’t play her part in it.

  
  


Heather sat glumly in her cage. A  _ cage.  _ Viggo had had Dagur put her in a damn cage and he’d  _ listened  _ to him. She had thought she’d felt dehumanized when she’d realized that he saw her as nothing more than something to be played with, but now it was worse.

She didn’t know what was coming next for her, and she was scared. Was Viggo just going to kill her? Torture her maybe to see if she had any useful information? It felt like a betrayal after how intimate they had become with each other. She realized that was ridiculous of course. She’d only gone to such lengths in an attempt to gain his trust and kill him, and he’d done it to gain her trust in return. She felt stupid for falling for it.

The battle hadn’t gone well, which was why she was stuck here. The Hunters had gotten the Flightmare, and she’d been captured in her attempt to rescue it. The Dragon Riders had been forced to retreat. They’d lost, and she didn’t know if help was coming for her. She couldn’t exactly help herself at the moment, not with her hands chained in front of her. She wished that Dagur hadn’t listened to Viggo, hadn’t thrown her in here. She was still confused as to what she felt for her brother, still angered beyond belief at what he’d done to her village, but she’d at least hoped that he’d stand up for her like all those other times he had against Ryker. But, Ryker didn’t scare Dagur. Viggo did, and now she understood why.

She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, quickly scrambling to her feet. Both Grimborns were approaching, a yellow-orange pool of lantern-light around them that broke through the darkness. It illuminated her as they reached the door of the cage, and she narrowed her eyes in a defiant glare.

Ryker, the one holding the lantern, laughed. “She looks like a feral animal in there.”

Viggo let out an amused huff. “She does indeed.” Then he was withdrawing a key from his belt, and Heather noticed that there was a satchel slung over his shoulder. Whatever was in that was for her. It had to be.

Heather backed away as Viggo unlocked the cage door and swung it open with a screech of metal. There was a part of her screaming to take the advantage of having the door open to flee, but then Viggo and Ryker were blocking the opening, coming into the cage with her. She expected to be grabbed by one of them and dragged out, but instead the door was shut, and then relocked. She was trapped with them.

“Let’s get those chains off of you, shall we?” Viggo put the key to the cage in the satchel, then pulled out another one. He handed the bag to Ryker, stepped forward. As he approached, Heather pressed herself against the bars at the back, utterly confused as to what could be happening. It felt like her heart was pulsing in her throat.

“Don’t come near me!” she cried, trying to sound defiant and angry, but her voice was shrill and scared. Anyone in her position would be terrified: locked up with two men that were so much larger than her, men that were her enemies, men that were cruel.

Viggo, of course, didn’t heed her words, got right up against her and grabbed roughly at one of her arms. She struggled, not trusting what he was about to do, but then, there was a click, and her cuffs slid off and rattled to the floor of the cage. She paused in her movement, breathing hard, looking down at her hands, then up at Viggo. He released her, took a few steps back, and clasped his hands in front of him. What was going on? She looked to Ryker as if he would give some sort of clue, but his expression was hard and unreadable.

“What are you doing?” she asked of both of them.

“Giving you a choice,” Viggo told her.

“What? To walk free in exchange for something?”

“In a way, yes. I have a proposal for you.”

Heather was silent. She didn’t want to tell him to continue and give the impression that she was willing to do what he wanted. 

“I want you-” Viggo brought up his hands, pointed at her with his index fingers touching- “to marry me.”

Heather would have staggered back had she had the room to. She felt like she’d just been punched in the gut. Hard.

“ _ What? _ ”

Viggo shrugged casually as if they were simply having a discussion on what to eat for dinner, (something she hadn’t been given.) 

“You’re a very powerful woman, Heather,” Viggo started, lowering his hands and folding them behind his back. “Berserker royalty. You may not have seen your home yet, but I have. You have land, money, power. You’re a wonderful fighter, and though you may not be as good at this game as I am, you certainly try your best. You’d make the perfect bride.”

Heather didn’t even have to consider it. “Have Ryker shove one of his swords up your ass. I’m sure that should feel good.”

“Alright, I’ll consider it from your perspective.” Viggo put a hand to his chest. “Think of what you would gain by marrying me. Take what you have and double it, triple it. I can give you a life of luxury.”

Heather looked around at the cage. She was feeling braver now since they were only talking, and since she wasn’t giving him what he wanted. She snorted. “Oh yeah. I can tell.”

“Oh, you won’t be caged, my dear. That would be no way to treat my wife.”

Heather shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. There wasn’t even any thinking involved. She would  _ not  _ marry this man, this  _ monster _ .

“At least consider it.”

“Already did. It’s still no.”

“Fine. I see you need some incentive.” Viggo looked to Ryker, who was setting the lantern and the satchel down. Heather’s stomach bottomed out at the way they both smirked at each other, clearly in on something that she wasn’t. Then they were both approaching her, and Heather wanted to run, but she had nowhere to go. She backed into the corner of the cage, gripped tightly at the bars. That didn’t keep Viggo from prying her away though. He was using the same strength he’d shown to have earlier, and though she shouted and thrashed, he was holding her arms behind her in a crushing grip.

Heather kicked out at Ryker as he came at her from the front, but he simply caught her leg and yanked her boot off. With the hand that wasn’t restraining her, Viggo was beginning to unbuckle her armor, and realization slammed into Heather like she’d flown straight into a cliff face, leaving her breathless. She knew what they were going to do to her.

She screamed in rage and terror, striking out at Ryker with her other foot, but that only had her losing that boot as well. She tried desperately to pull herself from Viggo’s grip, which only tightened at her struggles. Ryker pressed himself up against her so that she didn’t have room to fight, began undoing her armor along with Viggo. Pieces of it came off and went clattering to the floor of the cage despite her squirming. She shrieked again as they began tearing away at her clothing, horrified tears stinging in her eyes. This couldn’t be  _ happening  _ to her!

Ryker tore open the front of her tunic, and Viggo released her hands for a quick moment to yank it off of her. She brought up her hands to fight, but then Ryker had ahold of each of her wrists in one massive hand, his other going to her back to press her up against him and keep her as still as possible as Viggo worked at removing her leggings. She didn’t want to but she was crying now, rather hard.

“Let go of me! Let  _ go! _ ”

Her leggings were gone, and Viggo was up against her back, the spikes on his belt piercing her flesh just below Ryker’s hand and making her yell. He brushed some of her hair away from her ear, ran his mouth along the curve of it, taking ahold of her hips. 

“We will if you marry me.”

“No!  _ No-o-o! _ ”

“Oh, you really picked yourself a fierce one,” Ryker said to Viggo.

Heather yanked her head away from Viggo’s mouth, which he responded to by tugging hard on her braid, and, unlike all the other times he’d done it, this one was really meant to hurt, and it did. She couldn’t move, not with the way they were holding her, and certainly not with the spikes digging into her back. All she could do was shake and breathe much too fast as Viggo kissed along her neck.

“Heather, if you say yes, I’ll have Ryker leave and it’ll just be you and me,” Viggo murmured against her. “Just like before.”

“Go fuck yourself!”

Viggo chuckled, nipped at her skin, eliciting a gasp from her. “Well, you see, I’d prefer to fuck  _ you _ .”

Those words made Heather scream again, though she didn’t know why she was bothering. No one was going to come to help her. She was alone, and this was going to happen no matter what she did, because she wasn’t going to give her life over to Viggo by agreeing to marry him. She couldn’t.

Viggo drew away from her, and she felt a slight bit of relief as the spikes came out of her back.

“Ryker, hold her there.” Viggo stepped away, probably to grab something from the satchel, and Heather was back to struggling. 

Ryker leaned away to take a look at her, and his gaze made Heather’s skin crawl and burn. She turned her head away from him, a whimper crawling up her throat.

“I see my little brother was rough with you,” he said, clearly noting the marks on her breasts and collarbone. “Did you like that?”

“Sh-shut up!”

Ryker’s hand moved from her back to grab at her right breast and squeeze hard, making Heather squirm and cry out at the pain.

“Oh, I’ll make  _ you  _ shut up, bitch.” His hand left her breast, giving her a fleeting moment of relief, before he went to grip her throat. It wasn’t hard enough to cut off her breathing though. “Gonna get my cock in here.”

Heather decided to demonstrate what would happen if he did that. She turned her head, and chomped down hard on the hand that was holding her wrists. The taste of blood filled her mouth, but she didn’t have a grip for long. Ryker shouted and threw her down to the floor of the cage, leaving Heather spitting his blood onto the bars and gasping from the pain of the impact. 

Before she could try to get up, someone was straddling her, yanking her arms behind her back and wrenching painfully at her shoulders. She could easily tell that it was Viggo. Bile rose in her throat as she felt his erection against her lower back. She couldn’t believe he was feeling arousal from this. It was sickening. 

What he was tying her up with felt familiar, and she realized it was the leather strap he’d used the last time they’d had sex. He must have thought he was really funny doing that. 

Viggo stood, yanking on the strap to bring her to her knees.

“Ryker, what is it you said you wanted to do to her?”

Heather glared through a sheen of tears at Ryker, who was removing his belt.

“Come near me and I’ll fucking bite your dick off.”

Viggo clicked his tongue. “Oh, Heather. Bad girl.”

That was all the warning she got before Viggo was releasing the strap, stepping to the side, and then slapping her so hard in the face that she fell and blacked out. She came to on her knees with Ryker’s hand around her neck.

“If you bite either of us, your dragon dies,” Viggo told her. She could hear him unbuckling his belt. “Understood?”

Heather clenched her jaw tightly shut, but nodded anyway, keeping her eyes closed. She knew Viggo wasn’t lying to her. She couldn’t let Windshear die. Though, luckily Viggo hadn’t demanded her cooperation, so she tugged at the strap, but it did nothing, leaving her arms trapped by her hips. 

Heather felt Viggo position himself behind her, and then he was grabbing the back of one thigh and forcing her legs open. Once they were, he shoved a hand down between them, rubbing over all the spots he’d learned so intimately of over the past week. 

Not meaning to, Heather opened her mouth in a moan, and Ryker took advantage of that, shoved himself inside. He didn’t go slow, and was down her throat and choking her almost instantly. He was a bit bigger than Viggo and it hurt to have him forced into her. 

Ryker began thrusting as Viggo rubbed her cunt. She didn’t want this in the least, but that did nothing to change the fact that his ministrations felt good and she was growing wet. 

Ryker let go of her neck to grab at the back of her head and hold her in place. She pushed back against him, choking and gagging, but he didn’t let up on his assault. She was whimpering and sobbing around him, tears streaming down her face.

Heather jumped and almost accidentally bit Ryker as Viggo slapped hard at her genitals. He did it again and she managed to let out a muffled yelp.

“That’s it. Get this nice and wet for us.” Viggo’s voice was heavy with a satisfaction that made her stomach clench. He suddenly delved two fingers into her, then three. She was forgetting how to breathe and feeling lightheaded. She hoped she would faint and they would just decide to leave her alone. Either that or fuck her unconscious body so she would be unaware of it. 

Though, Ryker pulled away from her before she could faint from loss of air, leaving her to cough and wheeze and draw in huge gasps. Viggo roughly fingered her for a few more moments, making her moan, but then he was removing his fingers and yanking on the strap. She felt his cock brushing against her.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t,” she pleaded weakly.

“Why?” Viggo questioned. “Not anything you haven’t had before.”

Before Heather could protest again, Viggo was shoving his cock inside of her, then taking her hip in a crushing grip once he was fully sheathed. The motion made her cry out, and Ryker was back in her mouth.

It didn’t matter that Heather had had Viggo in her before. She didn’t want it  _ now _ . He began fucking her hard and fast, and she moaned in despair around Ryker’s cock. She’d never felt so violated in her life. And to think she’d started  _ liking  _ this man! 

Heather struggled despite the fact that it was no use. She was tied up, and being held and assaulted by two men that were much larger than her. It seemed she would have to endure, but gods, she  _ couldn’t _ . Ryker’s pounding at her throat hurt terribly and she kept having to fight back the urge to bite him. Then there was Viggo, confusing her to no end. She - no, her body - liked what he was doing, liked how he slammed pleasure relentlessly into her. The sensation was such a stark contrast to the pain she was feeling from the blows and the squeezing and the bleeding wounds in her back from Viggo’s belt, but the way it was being delivered was the same as the anguish in her jaw and her throat. Ryker was fucking her mouth like he was a starving man and she was the food. 

It felt like forever, but he pulled away to let her breathe again, and she hacked up blood in his absence. She didn’t even know where exactly she was bleeding from. 

“Oh, Ryker,” Viggo panted in disappointment. One of his hands went around to Heather’s throat to caress her as she gasped for air. “Come now. I want my future wife’s throat intact for me, you know.”

“ _ Stop _ ,” she begged hoarsely. “Please.”

Viggo spoke with his mouth against her ear. “Then marry me, Heather.”

“G-go to Niflheim.”

Viggo raked his nails down over Heather’s throat to one of her breasts to tightly pinch a nipple, and she wailed. Viggo chuckled at the sound, and if there had been anything in Heather’s stomach she would have been sick.

“Ryker, you want a go at her cunt?”

Ryker grunted, released her head. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Heather was given a fleeting moment of relief as Viggo withdrew from her and released her. It hardly lasted long enough for her to catch her breath. She couldn’t help screaming as Ryker grabbed at her. If there was one person she didn’t ever want fucking her, it was him.

He slammed her down onto her back and knocked the breath out of her. She shut her legs but he grabbed her thighs in a grip that made her cry out, and forced them wide open. He shoved his cock into her without any preamble, and  _ that  _ hurt. Heather yelled, squirmed underneath him, but of course it got her nowhere. One hand held her hip so hard she was afraid he would break it, and the other pinched and squeezed at her breasts, leaving her writhing underneath him and sobbing. What was worse, she could feel Viggo’s eyes on her. He’d known Ryker would be worse than him, and was offering himself up as safety from him. She wouldn’t take it though. No matter what happened to her, she wouldn’t marry Viggo Grimborn.

That determination was hard to hold onto though as Ryker continued his onslaught. He bit at her neck and her chest almost hard enough to break skin. He pinched and squeezed and slapped, and through it all it felt like he was pummeling her with his cock, and he would hit deep inside her and cause a pain that wrapped all the way around her hips. 

And still, despite all that, she came. She screamed with it, having the sudden urge to stab herself. Pleasure and pain thrashed around each other in an excruciating dance that had her shaking. Ryker kept fucking her through it, and by Freya, she just wanted it to stop. She’d been praying to Freya a lot lately, but she had no one else to call to for help, and if not help, just to give her the strength to get through this.

“That’s enough, Ryker.”

Ryker didn’t heed Viggo’s words, and Heather’s body decided it was a good idea to arch  _ into  _ the person assaulting her instead of away. 

Suddenly, it stopped, Ryker being thrown off of her.

“I said that’s enough!” Viggo yelled. Heather didn’t think she’d ever heard him yell before. For a moment she thought this was over, thought she would be fine, and then she realized that Viggo was probably going to take his brother’s place very shortly. That’s not what happened. Her eyes fluttered open to look at Viggo, tears streaking her face, and he met her gaze. There was no remorse in it, no guilt, no compassion. His eyes would have been a void if not for the raging lust in them, which was why his next words surprised her.

“Let’s give her a rest.”

“What? And we don’t get to finish?” Ryker strode forward, but Viggo stopped him with an outstretched arm. 

“In due time.”

Heather closed her eyes again, breathing hard, thankful for this respite, not sure why she was getting it. Then she felt Viggo crouching down by her, and she flinched and whined as he stroked at her hair.

“Heather, marry me and this can end.” His voice was soft, only meant for her.

“No.”

He continued stroking her hair. “If you say yes I can make love to you. I’ll untie you, carry you back to my bed. I’ll be gentle, and then I’ll tend to your wounds and see that you’re well taken care of.”

Heather twisted her head away from him, didn’t say anything. She’d already told him no. Her silence would mean the same thing.

“Heather?” His voice was suddenly so…  _ human _ , like he hadn’t just been raping her. It made her think of the man she’d started liking, the man that didn’t really exist. She was currently mourning that man.

“Have it your way then.”

Heather yelped as Viggo grabbed her under the arms and painfully hauled her to her feet. 

“Ryker, get in her from behind,” Viggo ordered, shoving her at his brother. She fell and Ryker caught her, flipped her around so that her back was against him and his cock was flush against her ass.

“ _ No. _ ”

“I did give you a choice, Heather. This is what you picked.”

Ryker impaled her on his cock, the action stealing her breath. Her eyes went to Viggo, to track his movements. He was coming towards her, holding his cock. They were going to-

“No, no, no!” Heather shrieked once the realization hit her. She thrashed, but Ryker still managed to grip her legs and lift her up like she weighed nothing. The position put him deeper, spurring an ache inside.

Viggo pressed himself between her legs, one hand on her shoulder.

“I apologize, my dear, but this really is going to hurt.”

At first his cock wouldn’t go into her, and Heather simply gasped at his attempts. She hoped he wouldn’t succeed, but then he was pushing inside of her beside Ryker, and agony stole her breath. She felt like she was being torn apart by them, and she tried to close her legs, but that just had her wrapping them around Viggo. She kept them like that though, held onto him as tightly as she could, just so she could have something to ground herself and get through this. Her hands balled into fists.

Viggo groaned, rocked his hips a little, let out a laugh. “ _ Oh _ , that’s good.”

Heather threw her head back against Ryker’s shoulder as they began simultaneously moving. Their thrusts were awkward, disjointed, but soon they found a rhythm to fuck her at, one pulling out while the other was pushing back in. 

Viggo’s other hand found its way onto her stomach, and he stuck his thumb downwards to rub it rather aggressively over her clit. Heather didn’t know which way she should move. At first it was back, pushing herself onto Ryker, but then it was forward into the hand pleasuring her and Viggo’s familiar body. She hated that he was doing this, would prefer it if she only felt pain instead. Feeling pleasure from this was so confusing, and she felt like each second of it chipped away at her mind.

Heather moaned loudly in pleasure and despair as she felt yet another orgasm building. She knew it wasn’t her fault in the slightest, but she still hated herself for it. She didn’t want another orgasm, wished she had some way to escape it.

Her climax hit her and had her shuddering, her eyes rolling back to see sparks of white behind her eyelids. What didn’t help was that Viggo and Ryker kept going at her, and Viggo didn’t stop what he was doing to her clit, even when her orgasm had ended. It was so good,  _ too  _ good, the amount of sensation simply turning into a wanton agony. 

“Stop, stop! Please stop!  _ Ple-e-ease! _ ”

“Ryker, did you cum?” Viggo asked in a manner as if he was asking his opinion on the weather.

Ryker huffed and grunted. “No. You?”

“Also no.” He laughed softly. “It appears we won’t be stopping just yet, Heather.”

“Th-then just stop wh-what you’re-  _ agh-ha! _ ”

“Oh, you mean this?” Viggo pressed hard at her oversensitive clit, making her convulse between him and Ryker. “But look what that does to you. Beautiful.”

Heather gagged, and it soon came to her realization that she was dry heaving. She turned her head to the side, spat up blood. Viggo was calling her  _ rape  _ beautiful. Once she gained control over her stomach, she started screaming and didn’t stop.

Heather drowned in sensation, lost sense of time, of everything else but this horror being inflicted upon her body. Ryker finished first with a guttural moan, then released her, left her to Viggo. Now that it was just him, she was able to stop screaming, but her sobs wracked her entire body. Viggo wrapped his arms around her, smearing her own blood on her back, and settled her down to the floor of the cage. He was being oddly gentle with her now, holding her tight against him as if that was supposed to comfort her.

“Sh, darling. Sh. I’m almost done.” He went in to kiss her lips, and Heather jerked her head away, refusing to give in to him. He pressed his mouth to her jaw instead.

Viggo finished with a gasp and a groan, releasing his seed into her spent and aching body. For a moment he just held her with his head bowed to her neck, panting. Then he kissed her neck.

“Marry me.”

“Sh-should have killed you when I had the chance,” Heather breathed, and Viggo just chuckled.

“I hate to break it to you, Heather, but you never had the chance.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Heather lay curled up on her side, still naked. Viggo had left new clothes beside her, but she was hurting too much to move at the moment. She was in shock from what had happened as well, feeling frozen and stuck like that. Her thoughts were sluggish and didn’t come often. She’d expected to feel agony once it was over and she was alone, a maelstrom of emotions, but instead she was numb, like Viggo and Ryker had dug everything out of her with their invasion of her body. 

That wouldn’t be the only time this would happen to her if she either didn’t get out, or didn’t give in to Viggo. Before leaving he’d crouched down and stroked her back as she trembled, told her that he would be returning tomorrow. He’d also mentioned something about getting more creative, and she didn’t want anything to do with that.

Heather didn’t know how she was going to get out though. Viggo had the key, and she had nothing to use to pick the lock. She  _ couldn’t  _ marry him though. 

She supposed she would just have to suffer.

Heather didn’t move until she was shivering from cold. It hurt to move but she had to do it, and she winced and gritted her teeth as she donned the tunic and leggings Viggo had left for her. She was surprised he even had the decency to do that.

_ Or maybe he just doesn’t want me dying from cold _ . That was more likely. Or the clothes were some way to manipulate her and try to gain her trust back. He was still playing, and she wasn’t just a piece now. She was the game.

Heather even put her armor back on despite the fact it would be torn off of her again tomorrow and it had done nothing to protect her in the first place. It hurt terribly to put it over her bruised and swollen breasts, but she wanted to do it. 

Once she was dressed, she wiped her tears off with what remained of her old tunic, and then she undid her hair, combed her fingers through the knots in it, and re-braided it. She wanted to feel at least a little normal.

Then she sat, feeling numb, like she’d experienced all emotion possible during her rape, and now there was nothing left to feel. She was sure it wouldn’t last forever, but for now there was a gaping hole in her.

The camp suddenly rocked with an explosion. Heather grabbed at the bars of her cage, surprised. Could that be…?

Another explosion, and in the distance, fire lit up the night. It was! The Dragon Riders were here to rescue her!

Heather somehow found more tears in herself, but they were tears of relief. She found the strength to stand, went up to the door of the cage to excitedly wait.

Minutes passed and the sounds of fighting continued. No sight of the Dragon Riders though. Then Heather saw a circle of light waving across the ground, and she scurried to the back of the cage. Gods, Viggo had come back. He was going to move her, or keep her with him to make sure she wasn’t freed. He was going to-

“Hey, sis.”

“Dagur?” Heather cautiously stepped forward, suspicious. “What are you doing here?”

Dagur bent and set the lantern down. Then he pulled two narrow metal tools from his belt, inserted them into the lock and began to fiddle with it.

“Getting you out. What does it look like?”

Heather was surprised by this. Dagur had seemed more than satisfied to lock her up. He’d been furious with her betrayal, was willing to leave her to whatever Viggo and Ryker decided to do with her. She felt a sudden flare of anger. He’d just  _ left  _ her to them!

She scoffed, crossed her arms, pretending that nothing had happened since the last time he’d seen her.

“Surprised you’re not taking part in the fight. Especially since it’s Hiccup.”

“Me too, sorta.” Dagur stuck his tongue between his teeth as he worked at the lock. Soon, there was a click, he gave a victorious shout, and the door sprung open. He took her by the hand, yanked her out of the cage. “Did they hurt you?”

Heather considered telling him, but then realized that would be a very fast way to get Dagur killed. He’d be unthinking in his rage, would go after Viggo and Ryker at once, and they would easily team up and kill him. So, she shook her head.

“Good. Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Heather didn’t think she’d ever been happier to go along with Dagur in her life.

  
  


It hurt to sit astride Windshear, but Heather made no complaint. She didn’t want her friends to know what had happened to her, knowing that they’d only be worried, that it would only make their night worse. She’d helped them chase off the Flightmare, but apparently they’d lost. Viggo had the Dragon Eye, and though she tried, Heather couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. All she cared about was that she was free from those two monsters that had the gall to walk around like human beings and call themselves that. She almost wanted to laugh at how the first night she’d met Viggo, he’d looked almost directly at her with the words:  _ “We’re not animals.” _

Thinking about the night she’d met him didn’t help how she was feeling though. As she flew, emotions began to steadily creep up on her, and one of those was self-loathing. She’d put herself out to him as something to be attracted to, had purposefully invited his attention to try to get to him, and she’d gotten his attention, but she’d never killed him, because he’d done the same right back at her, and she’d been too stupid to realize that he knew what she was doing the entire time. She’d been so,  _ so  _ stupid.

Heather found tears on her face without realizing they’d fallen, and she let herself wipe at them. It was dark and no one would see the action. They were all flying silently, and she could just feel the defeat wafting off of each of the Dragon Riders, and from Hiccup, there was frustration and anger as well.

As the flight wore on, Heather felt like she was going to explode, like she was carrying this around like some heavy secret and she  _ had  _ to tell someone so she didn’t lose her mind. She looked to Astrid. She’d be staying in her hut anyway. Maybe she could tell her.

Or maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe she should just carry this burden on her own. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d carried pain all on her own, let it weigh down her shoulders. She idly wondered if she was going to go gray early from all that had happened in her life. She knew that whenever she did go gray, some of those hairs would be because of Viggo.

  
  


“Hey, Astrid?” Her friend was setting up a place for her to sleep on the floor beside her bed and, well, Heather didn’t want to sleep there. She wouldn’t feel safe. They’d both removed their armor and were planning on trying to sleep, though the sky had been gray with early morning upon their return.

“Yeah.”

“Can I maybe just… can we share the bed?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” There was no hesitation on Astrid’s part, and that made Heather feel better. Astrid kicked aside the bedroll she’d been setting out, got into bed, and patted the spot beside her. “It’ll be a bit of a squeeze though.”

“Believe me. I’m fine with that.” Heather was sure that she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable being that close to Astrid. It had been a man who had done all that to her, a man she shouldn’t have fallen for and begun to trust in the first place, but Astrid was perfectly fine. Astrid was a woman she cared for and felt safe around.

Heather tried to hold in any exclamation of pain as she settled down next to Astrid, but when she laid on her back, her wounds there twinged and she gasped. That had Astrid rolling onto her side, looking at her very seriously.

“Heather, you told us you weren’t hurt.”

“I didn’t want any of you guys to worry.”

Astrid sighed a little, got out of bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting some light so I can see well enough to take care of you.”

“Astrid, you don’t have to do-”

“Yes I do.”

Heather realized there would be no arguing with her, and sat up as Astrid began lighting some lanterns and candles. The light wasn’t very strong, but Heather knew that if she removed any of her clothes, Astrid would be able to see what had been done to her anyway.

Astrid gasped a little when she looked at her. “Heather, your face.” She sat down beside her, carefully stroked fingers over her bruised and swollen cheek. It was a contrast to the last touch she’d felt there: the slap from Viggo that had almost knocked her out. “What did they do to you?” she asked quietly.

Heather’s lower lip trembled, and sobs ached in her already-hurting throat. Should she tell her right now? Granted, she’d have to undress to let Astrid look at her back, and then she would know anyway from the way she was bruised.

“They, um…” She couldn’t say it. She was choking on that one terrible word like she’d choked on Ryker’s… 

All of it hit her in a flood, a huge torrent of emotion that was knocking her off her feet, and she threw herself into Astrid’s arms with an anguished wail. Astrid embraced her instantly, cradled her head against her chest.

“You’ll be alright now,” Astrid told her. “You’re safe now, Heather. Just let it out.” Her words sounded strained, like she was holding in her own emotions, like she just  _ knew. _ Heather wasn’t one to break down about anything, so Astrid probably realized what it had to be to make her like this. Heather was too lost in her own pain to even feel ashamed that she was showing it.

Astrid rubbed gently at her upper back, and Heather was glad that she didn’t go any lower, or she’d accidentally be touching the wounds given to her by the spikes on Viggo’s belt.

Heather didn’t know how long she cried against Astrid for, but once she began to gain some composure, she felt guilty for depriving her of sleep. Astrid had had a hard night too.

“Can I take a look at you?” Astrid asked gently. “To see if there’s anything I can do?”

Heather grew nervous all of a sudden. The last time she’d been naked… But no. Astrid wouldn’t hurt her. Just the thought of that was utterly ridiculous. 

“I guess I could use bandages on my back,” Heather said honestly, her voice hoarse. She just wanted to down an entire jar of honey to soothe the hurting in her throat.

Astrid released her, let Heather straighten, turn her back to her, and gingerly pull off her tunic. A hand carefully traced over her spine.

“What’s that from?” Astrid asked.

“Viggo has spikes on his belt.” Heather sniffled, wiped at her face. “H-he held me while Ryker- while he tore my clothes off.” She didn’t know how she got the words out, but Astrid probably knew already. She’d mentioned receiving sexual comments from Ryker while imprisoned by him, so she didn’t seem all that surprised.

“Heather, I’m  _ so  _ sorry. I’ll do what I can, alright?” She stood, began moving around the room to gather things. “Is there anything you want to talk about? I won’t judge you for anything.”

Heather smiled a little. “Yeah, I know you won’t.” She didn’t speak for a little while though, unsure of where to start, of what to say. Astrid didn’t pressure her, just came back and began silently wrapping bandages around her lower abdomen.

“I’m worried I’m pregnant,” she told her. “That wasn’t the only time-”

“ _ Thor _ , they did that to you more than once?!”

“No, no. Viggo, he- I-  _ gods _ , it’s a mess.” Heather put her head in one hand. “He knew it was me working against them from the first time we met, but I didn’t know that, so I was, um, sleeping with him to get a good opportunity to kill him and he’d always… finish in me. I asked him not to, but…” Heather just shrugged in form of an explanation.

“Damn, I commend you.” 

“Why?”

Astrid fastened the bandage in the back. “Well, I know this isn’t really the right thing to say, but if he’s anywhere near as ugly as Ryker…”

For some reason, that made Heather laugh a little. She pulled her tunic back on. “No, no, he’s not.” The air felt serious again. “That’s part of the problem actually.” She wanted to turn back to face Astrid, but she couldn’t make herself do it while talking about this. It was just easier to have her back turned. “He’s attractive and it’s confusing as all Hel. And he  _ knows  _ he’s attractive and was really seducing me when I thought it was the other way around. I just- I feel so stupid, Astrid.”

Astrid put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not stupid, Heather. Everything’s a game to him, and it’s probably hard to know that you’re a piece unless he explicitly shows you.”

“Yeah, well, a few hours ago, I was the game instead of the piece.”

Astrid massaged her shoulder. “Was he trying to get anything from you?”

“He, um…” Heather licked her lips. “He wanted, well, wants, me to marry him.”

Astrid’s movement stopped. “ _ What? _ ”

“Yeah, it’s crazy.” Heather felt tainted all of a sudden, like there was a blackness writhing underneath her skin, a grime coating her. She idly thought of convincing Windshear to just burn her to a crisp to get it off. Heather now realized that he’d been  _ trying  _ to impregnate her, that his plan had been to force a marriage on her since the first time they’d had sex. She leaned over as she was rocked with a wave of nausea, put her head in her hands. Astrid seemed to know what that meant, and in a few moments, she was sliding a bucket underneath her, then holding her braid back. Heather just made herself take deep breaths, unable to speak, but eventually, the nausea passed, but she remained doubled over anyway, like the position would help her deal with the knives that were digging into her chest.

“I’ll be okay, Astrid.”

“You sure?”

Heather nodded, and so Astrid released her hair, began caressing her back.

“We thought he wanted you dead,” Astrid told her. “He left a game board for Hiccup, and your piece was broken.”

“The traitor, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

Heather huffed in cynical amusement. “He tried giving it to me when I found out the whole thing was a setup.”

“That damn…” Astrid paused, seeming to think of a word, and Heather could feel her anger. “Psychopath!”

Heather leaned back into her, and Astrid wrapped her arms around her, letting her rest back against her front. “Oh, you have no idea.”

They stopped talking for a long while, and Heather grew relaxed in Astrid’s arms, actually began to feel sleepy. She indicated this by moving away from her and going to get under the blankets. Astrid helped her with it, understanding that she hurt, and usually Heather would snap at anyone that tried to take care of her like that, but she let her do it, was grateful for it. Astrid laid down beside her, facing her, and before Heather could even ask if she would be alright with holding her, her strong arms went around her. Heather cuddled into her, feeling the safest she had in a long while. She let her eyes close. Though, she still had more on her mind.

“Astrid, I don’t want you telling anyone about this. It’s mine to tell if I want to.”

“I understand. It’s all safe with me.”

Safe. That was such a good word. Heather smiled a little. For the first time in a long while, she drifted off to sleep without the fear of someone hurting her, or even worse, treating her as nothing more than a game.


End file.
